


When he wakes up, he does not wear blue

by arazuta



Series: Brother's Blood [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 13:33:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8058319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arazuta/pseuds/arazuta
Summary: We know the fate of the Shimada brothers' father, vaguely, but we do not know of their mother's. This is about assassins and nightmares.





	

A long hall. A long hall. Familiar floors and walls, just outside his old room. The stains never really left. They aren’t there, but Hanzo can still remember. The echo of blood on the floor, a slowly spreading pool. His face is in it. A mirror. Porcelain skin. Honeyed eyes stare unblinking, slowly growing milky. A small film. There’s a film of tears in his eyes. There’s a film of terror all over him. For a moment he can’t breathe through it, suffocated as though by a thin plastic bag. 

Genji is on the floor next to her, knees in the blood, the non blood, the ghostly traces soak his pants. They’ll stain. Their mother complains about stains. Complained. She never takes care of it. Took care of it. But she still always complains. Complained. Tenses bounce in his head. Genji is holding her hand. Her pale hand. In his pale hand. Shock or blood loss? Whose is spreading across the floor? 

His hair is choppy. Scissors in his other hand? Sword? Hard to tell through the tears. Maybe Genji can’t tell either. Tears streak his cheeks. He wants to take Genji’s hand. Pull him away. He shouldn’t be here. Genji stares. Not at the body. 

He feels something looming behind him. Hanzo cannot move. He’s all weighted down. The heavy stomps of a Noh performance echo somewhere, far. He feels something looming behind him. It’s closer. He feels electric. 

“You became like them.” Genji speaks it without saying it. He’s still staring. Has he blinked? His hands are pale. Red soaks his pants. 

“I did not.” Hanzo hears his own voice, but he swears he didn’t say it. His head is spinning. 

“How many parents have you killed?” It’s rhetorical, Hanzo thinks, but he’s too nauseous to know. He remembers his mother leaning to him, whispering, ‘Red makeup indicates a hero, it means bravery and honor.’ 

“I had to.” It’s a fruitless argument. 

“I will not become the people who killed mom.” It makes Hanzo shudder hard. He looks down at his hands. They’re smeared with blue. He finally shifts. A small stomp comes with the motion, the echo of a Noh step over a clay pot. 

Genji is all red. It’s saturated him. His visible skin is still pale. He still hasn’t blinked. He still holds her pale hand. Hanzo’s pale hand touches a blade. He tries to stop himself. He tries to will himself. 

He remembers his mother leaning to him, whispering, ‘Blue makeup indicates a villain, it means brutality.’


End file.
